Ride the Thunder

by Janet Dailey

  Trying to be as quiet as possible, she opened her door and carefully closed it behind her. There were sounds of someone snoring in the living room. Not Brig—Jordanna didn't even remember hearing him snore. But he was in there. She hesitated, magnetically pulled in his direction. She resisted it and glided silently to the kitchen door. Not until the door was shut did she reach for the light switch. The sudden flood of light hurt her eyes. She blinked, shielding her eyes from the glare until they adjusted to the brightness.

  The milk was in the refrigerator and Jordanna found a small pan in the bottom drawer of the stove. While it warmed on the burner, she searched the cupboards for a glass, trying to make as little noise as possible. In the cupboard by the sink, Jordanna found the glasses setting on the second shelf. Stretching on tiptoes, she reached one of them.

  Out of the silence, Brig's low voice demanded to know, "What are you doing?"

  Startled, Jordanna pivoted around. The glass slipped through her fingers and tumbled to the floor, shattering on impact

  "Don't move!" Brig ordered harshly.

  But it was too late. Instinct had already prompted her to try to catch the glass before it hit the floor. Her reflexes were way too slow and the sole of a bare foot came down on a piece of glass. Immediately Jordanna lifted her foot, gasping at the sharp stab of pain. She tried to twist her foot around so she could see whether the piece of glass was still in the bottom of her foot.

  "I thought I told you not to move. " Glass crunched under his boots as Brig strode impatiently toward her.

  Since it was obvious she had, the comment didn't warrant a reply. It wasn't easy balancing on one foot, but she didn't dare move. Splinters of glass were all around her. She was leaning against the kitchen counter. Distracted by the sharp pain in her foot, she was only half-conscious of Brig crossing the width of the room to her side. Jordanna was forcibly reminded of it when he scooped her up in his arms. Momentarily stunned by the sudden contact, her reaction was automatic. She clasped her hands around his neck for support, suddenly realizing that he was dressed only in Levis and boots.

  His torso was bare from his hair-roughened chest to the hard, flat muscles of his stomach. The easy way his arms carried her weight revealed his physical strength. An intoxicating breathlessness attacked her lungs at the warm, male scent of his flesh. She was conscious of the rippling play of his muscles as he carried her to the kitchen table. Lifting her gaze, she studied his lean, rugged features through the sweep of her lashes. The darkness of his thick hair, eyebrows, and mustache blended with his sun-browned complexion. His face was so very close to hers. The lines feathering out from the corners of his eyes drew her gaze inward to meet his look.

  Her heart began regularly skipping beats when his attention shifted to her lips. In the next second, Brig was setting her down on the table top and dragging his gaze away from her mouth. Pulling a chair alongside, he concentrated on her injured foot. The rumpled thickness of his dark brown hair invited fingers to run through it and Jordanna curled her own around the edge of the table to resist the invitation.

  "Is the glass still in it?" Her voice was husky and disturbed, reflecting her inner feelings.

  The heel of her foot was cupped in one large hand while the other examined the small wound where the faint trickle of blood had originated.

  "Yes. "

  An instant later, she was wincing as he pulled it out With the piece of glass removed, the blood flowed more freely from the wound. Brig took a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against the bottom of her foot. His gaze sliced to her face.

  "What did you think you were doing?"

  Under the disconcerting directness of his look, Jordanna lifted a hand to push her touseled auburn hair away from her face, and avoided his look. "I couldn't sleep. I thought if I drank some warm milk it might help me relax. " Her nose caught the tell-tale scent of scorched milk. "The milk! It's still on the stove. "

  "Stay right where you are, " Brig ordered sternly. Tying the handkerchief around her foot, he rose and walked across the broken glass to the stove. Removing the pan of milk, he turned off the burner and carried the pan to the sink. Jordanna saw, when he poured the milk down the drain, that the bottom of the pan was coated with the black-brown scum of burnt milk. Filling the pan with water, Brig left it in the sink to soak. Instead of walking back to the table, he went to the pantry and brought out a broom.

  "I never thought of you as domestic, " Jordanna murmured as she watched him sweep up the fragments of glass. Domestic, but never domesticated, she thought to herself. Brig would never be tame. He was too much his own man to ever jump at the bidding of others.

  "A case of necessity, " was his indifferent reply. When the glass was swept into a dustpan, Jordanna started to get down from the table. His sharp gaze swung to pin her. "I told you to stay there. "

  The underlying current of anger in his voice more than the order kept Jordanna from moving. When the broom and the dustpan were put away, he cast one glance at her, then walked out the door to the bathroom. Jordanna heard the sounds of the medicine cabinet being opened and explored. Then Brig was returning to the kitchen with disinfectant and a band-aid.

  Again her injured foot was the prisoner of his hand. She drew in a hissing breath as the disinfectant stung the wound. The band-aid was applied next The roughness of his calloused fingers smoothed the adhesive over the sensitive skin on the bottom of her foot When it was done, he continued to hold her foot in his hands and lifted his gaze to her face.

  "How is that?"

  "It's fine. Thank you. " There was a disturbed tremor in her voice. It felt oddly intimate for him to hold her foot like that, one hand resting on her arch and the other curved around her slender ankle. Her heel was supported by his solid thigh.

  "It doesn't look serious, so it shouldn't give you any problems. " His gaze continued to hold hers with all the appearance of total indifference to her, but Jordanna felt his fingers absently stroke the calf of her leg.

  The sensation sent tingles over her skin. He must have seen her reaction to his touch because his eyes darkened to a smoldering brown. Her breath was stolen as his hand slid further up her leg to grip the side of her knee, inching toward her inner thigh, beneath her long robe. Abruptly he withdrew his hand, tearing his gaze from her face as he pushed back his chair and straightened.

  "That should take care of it, then, " Brig stated.

  While Jordanna was still trying to recover from the sudden removal of his touch, his hands spanned her waist to lift her to the floor. She wasn't prepared for the sudden adjustment from sitting to standing Her fingers gripped the flexed muscles of his upper arms for support as she sought her balance. The tenderness of the wound on the bottom of her foot didn't help.

  "Sorry, I... " She tipped back her head as she started the apology, but the unmasked desire in his look stopped the words.

  Jordanna shuddered with longing His hands tightened, almost imperceptibly, on her waist to draw her closer. She spread her fingers upward to his bronzed shoulders. His mouth opened over hers, taking her lips in a hungry, demanding kiss. Jordanna gave herself willingly to the man who already owned her, heart and soul. The molding hands at her hips and back shaped her to the hard contours of his length. The ragged tempo of his heartbeat was a glorious sound, so like her own. His mouth moved to explore the curve of her neck.

  "I lied to you, Brig, " Jordanna whispered with aching love.

  There was a momentary stillness before he lifted his head and allowed a small amount of space to come between them. She met his penetrating gaze and its hint of wariness. Her fingers traced the smoothness of his shaven jaw in a tender caress.

  "When?" It was a sharp demand.

  "When I told you that I only pretended to like your touch, " she answered in a soft, throbbing voice. "It wasn't true. You make me come alive when you hold me in your arms and make love to me. "

  "I already guessed that. " His look demanded that she tell him something he didn't kn
ow.

  "Brig, I want to be more man just your lover. I want you to feel something more than just lust for me. " Her tone became tight with the depth of her need. "I want you to care about me. Let me be your friend, your confidante, maybe even your wife and the mother of your children some day. "

  Grim disgust thinned his mouth. The sight of it slashed at her heart like a knife blade. Hurt, Jordanna turned out of his arms and took a quick step away. It was a searing pain that went deep. She had thought if she explained that she truly cared, he might reciprocate with a similar admission.

  "Jordanna... " His hands touched her shoulders. She eluded their grasp with a flinching shrug.

  "No, " she denied with a flash of hurt anger. "It isn't enough for me to share your bed. I guess I'm just naturally a greedy person, Brig. I want to share the boredom, the monotony of day to day routine. I want to share the good times and the bad. I want to work with you to build this ranch. I want to argue with you —and make love with you. " Pivoting Jordanna proudly lifted her trembling chin to meet his closed look. "I love you, Brig McCord. I didn't lie about that either. "

  "Sometimes you are very convincing" he murmured with sufficient skepticism to prove he didn't believe her. "But I can't imagine you being satisfied for long, stuck out here in these primitive surroundings. "

  "It's where I belong. Not just because you are here, " she qualified. "This is my land of place, not the city, but here in the outdoors where there is nothing to block out the sun but the mountains. Where it's wild and untamed. Like hunting it's the kind of life that demands something from you—physically and mentally. Here, there is constant challenge and I... " There was a sudden lump in her throat Looking away, she swallowed before tightly completing the sentence. "... would love to live here with you. I love you. You do love me, " she accused. "I know you care. I've seen it in your eyes, felt it when you held me. Why won't you admit it?" She turned her hurt, questing eyes to him.

  His look was unreadable as his hands moved to rest on either side of her neck. There was a certain grimness that seemed permanently implanted in his rugged features. Jordanna didn't resist the light grip of his hands or the pressure of his thumbs on her collarbones.

  "I could love you, Jordanna, " he muttered, "if I didn't know better. "

  Before she could question what he meant by that, he was curving her into his arms and his mouth was blotting out her token resistance. His embrace was almost cruel in its demand for gratification. Jordanna might have struggled if she hadn't felt the tremors of desperate longing that shuddered through his hard, male frame. She couldn't deny him satisfaction any more than she could deny herself.

  Without another word said, Brig picked her up and carried her from the kitchen. Unerringly, he found his way to the bedroom in the darkened house. In the black velvet shadows of the bed, the fire their kisses had kindled blazed into full flame, and consumed them both with its rapture.

  Hugging his arms more tightly around her, Jordanna basked in the warm glow of satisfaction. She felt almost completely content. She looked up to him and smiled, knowing he could see her expression and she couldn't see his, and that it wasn't necessary.

  "We have something special, Brig" she murmured. "You can't deny it. "

  His reply was to slip his arm from beneath her shoulders, the one she had hugged to more fully encircle her. He rolled to the edge of the bed and sat up. In the darkness of the room, all Jordanna could make out was the black shape of his broad-shouldered frame. The bedsprings squeaked as he stood up, removing his weight from them. She frowned at the sounds of his movement that indicated he was dressing.

  "Aren't you sleeping here?" The question was out before she realized how shameless it sounded.

  "No. " It was a flat denial that held no regret

  "Why?" She nearly choked on a sob.

  For a minute, Brig didn't answer as he walked to the door. The knob clicked when he turned it. "You can keep the bed, Jordanna... " he told her, "... and your lies. I don't need them. "

  Lies?!! Her heart cried in anguish, but no sound came from her throat. The door opened and closed. How could he believe that all the things she had told him were lies? She had bared her emotions, stripped away all pretense, and virtually begged him to care about her. She had humbled herself and he'd walked all over her heart when he left her alone in the bedroom.

  Her fingers curled into the pillow where his head had rested. She pulled it toward her and buried her face in it, so her wracking sobs would be muffled by its thick feathers. Jordanna wished Brig had slapped her. That pain would have eased in time, but the agony his rejection brought would be slow to heal, if it ever did. She cried until the pillow was drenched with her tears and there were no more left. But the dry, hacking sobs wouldn't stop. She found no peace until mindless exhaustion swirled a black cloud over her consciousness.

  Chapter 20

  A cold, blustery wind accompanied the hunting party as they returned to the mountains. They rode with shoulders hunched and collars turned up against the icy blasts. The sky was a clear, sharp blue and there was a crystalline clarity to the air.

  The second day on the trail, a stand of trees offered them partial protection from the whistling wind. The group stopped and dismounted to give the horses a rest The horses turned their backs to the wind that whipped their tails between their legs, and huddled together.

  Trying to stamp some feeling into her numbed legs, Jordanna watched Jocko bring out the thermos of hot coffee. Despite the layers of clothing, she was cold. So were the others. Kitt was slapping and rubbing his arms and her father was rubbing his hands together. Only Brig and Jocko, who were occupied with other things, weren't attempting to warm some part of their body.

  She felt the dryness of her lips and reached into her

  jacket pocket for the lip balm. Her heavily gloved hands were shaking as she outlined her lips with the creamy stick. She, like the others, wore sunglasses to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun, which seemed doubly bright at this altitude.

  Jocko brought her a cup of coffee, which she gratefully accepted. "It's cold today. " She verbalized what her shaking hands told him.

  His gaze surveyed the blue sky with its horizon of snow-capped peaks. "It will snow soon. "

  "But there isn't a cloud in the sky, " she pointed out.

  The Basque shrugged that it didn't make any difference. "The wind says it will snow. " He moved on to fill her father's cup.

  Brig had heard Jocko's prediction as he left the horses to join the circle of riders. "If it does, it might drive the sheep down to the lower elevations. " Setting his rifle scabbard on the ground near Jordanna's and Fletcher's, Brig took off his gloves to warm his hands with the hot metal of his steaming cup of coffee.

  Jordanna kept her gaze averted from him. Whenever it was possible, she avoided addressing any remark directly to him. Walling herself in was her only means of defense from further hurt being inflicted by Brig. It was prompted not so much by pride as by survival.

  Her silence wasn't noticeable since none of the group was very talkative this time. Everyone seemed concerned with his own private thoughts and expressed few aloud. Brig's comment about the sheep had received an ambiguous response from her father. The break lasted as long as it took to drink the hot coffee; then it was time to climb in the saddle again.

  Her foot was in the stirrup. She was just ready to mount the sorrel horse when she felt a hand at her waist help her into the saddle. Thinking it was Brig, Jordanna jerked away from the contact and cast an angry glance over her shoulder. But it was her brother standing there.

  "What's wrong?" His darkly handsome features were drawn into a concerned frown.

  "Nothing. It isn't you, " she added, in case he thought it was, and swung into the saddle unassisted.

  Kit moved to stand beside the front skirt of the saddle, his hand resting on her saddlehorn. "What happened between you and Brig?"

  Jordanna started not to answer him at all, before she decided he
deserved some kind of response. "It was wrong to think he would care about me, that's all. I'll just have to start over. " And try to find a reason to go on without him, she added to herself. Beyond that, she couldn't discuss it—not even with her brother. It was much too fresh and painful... and ongoing.

  A horse snorted beside her, drawing Jordanna's glance. The buckskin was tossing its black forelock near her leg. Her gaze darted to Brig. The mirror finish of his sunglasses kept her from seeing his eyes, but she realized that he had overheard her answer. She felt exposed. Jordanna faced the front, holding her head rigidly straight and staring directly ahead.

  After a couple of seconds, she tapped a heel against the sorrel's ribs. The horse moved reluctantly away from the windbreak of trees. The buckskin trotted past her to take the lead. There was a tightness in her throat at the sight of the lean, broad-shouldered man riding so easily in the saddle. Jordanna slowed the sorrel to bring up the rear with Jocko and the pack-string.

  An hour before sunset, the riders reached the site of their previous camp. The wood frame for the tent was standing like a forgotten skeleton. A ring of stones encircled the blackened ash of previous campfires, and firewood was chopped and stacked in readiness for more. After the horses were taken care of, Brig and Jocko stretched the canvas over the larger tent. While Kit helped Jordanna set up her small, private tent, Fletcher started the fire. A golden sunset darkened to orange and tinted the wild country with its fiery glow.

  The next day, the sky retained its cold blue shade, reminding Jordanna of polar ice. The biting wind sent the temperature plummeting to the freezing mark. On the horizon, the first tendrils of clouds warned of a weather front moving closer. As the hunting party started out from camp, Jordanna was stunned to realize that Brig was taking the route that led up the switchback trail.

  "We aren't going up that, are we?" she said in protest